Rupert Shannon climbed out wearing aviator shades, a shiny black leather jacket and a wide grin. The breeze ruffled his sandy hair and he quickly patted it back into place as he glanced around him.
Jeff shook his head in disgust. ?Will you take a look at this guy? If the fucker was made of chocolate, he?d eat himself.?
Ben was about to head for the door to greet their new arrival, when the Porsche?s passenger door opened.
?Shit,? Jeff muttered. ?I had a feeling she?d be with him.?
Ben followed Jeff?s gaze and saw Brooke Marcel get out and walk around the side of the car. Her thick auburn hair was tied loosely back from her face, and she was wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt that hugged her slim figure. She looked as good as she always did, but today Ben thought he could see a frown on her face, a certain self-consciousness in her body language. She looked down at her feet a couple of times as she followed Shannon across the yard towards the office building. Seemed to be trailing behind, holding back. It wasn?t like her.
?Why is Brooke here?? Ben murmured. ?She?s not needed for this course. This is purely practical. Shannon doesn?t need lectures in hostage psychology.?
Jeff didn?t say anything.
?And what?s she doing with him?? Ben added.
Jeff gave a derisory snort. ?Can?t you tell??
?They?re??
?Yup. Looks like it. They?re an item.?
?Since when??
?Not sure. Since the last course, I think. I?d noticed they were spending a lot of time together. I was going to tell you. Must have slipped my mind. Or maybe I just didn?t want it to happen. Denial, or something.?
Ben watched her approach. Dr Brooke Marcel. Expert in hostage psychology, with an alphabet of letters after her name. Based in London, she?d spent years as a consultant to specialised police and military units, but was recently spending more and more time lecturing at Le Val. She was thirty-five, maybe thirty-six. He suddenly realised that maybe he didn?t know her as well as he?d thought.
?No reaction?? Jeff asked, watching him closely.
?Not my business,? Ben said.
?Come on. There?s always been something between you two. All those nights sitting together in the kitchen, drinking wine, listening to music. Going for walks. Don?t act like you don?t care.?
?There?s never been anything going on between me and Brooke. Only in your head.?
?I don?t know what she sees in that pumped-up twit, anyway. You?re more her type.?
Ben ignored that. ?He is what he is, but he?s paying a lot of money for this course.?
?I get it. You want me to be nice to the bastard.?
?Too much to ask??
Jeff kept his eyes on Shannon as he chewed it over. ?It just might be, yeah.?
?Remember what we agreed, Jeff,? Ben said. ?At Le Val we always respect our clients, no matter what. OK?? But he didn?t like the lecturing way it came out.
?Even the arseholes.?
?Especially the arseholes.? Ben walked over to the door, opened it and stepped out just as Shannon reached the building. Jeff followed him outside, muttering something that Ben didn?t catch.
Shannon?s grin broadened as he greeted them. He was a big guy. At six-three he was four inches taller than Ben, probably fifty pounds heavier, about five years younger. He raised his hand to his face and whipped off the shades.
?Ciao, Jeff, ciao, Benjamin,? he brayed at them. ?How?s it going, boys??
?It?s Benedict, not Benjamin. And you can call me Ben.? Not a great start, he thought.
Shannon grunted with a dismissive gesture. ?Whatever. Benedict, Benjamin, Ben, it?s all the same to me.?
Ben could feel Jeff bristling beside him. He threw him a quick warning glance. Respect the client, no matter what .
Brooke came up behind Shannon. ?Hello, Ben,? she said softly, and smiled.
?Hi, Brooke.? Ben patted her arm affectionately, like he always did. Shannon noticed it, and cleared his throat.
?The rest of the guys should be arriving soon,? he said.
?Fine. The accommodation?s ready for you all.? Ben pointed over at the trainees? block, across
Jeff shook his head in disgust. ?Will you take a look at this guy? If the fucker was made of chocolate, he?d eat himself.?
Ben was about to head for the door to greet their new arrival, when the Porsche?s passenger door opened.
?Shit,? Jeff muttered. ?I had a feeling she?d be with him.?
Ben followed Jeff?s gaze and saw Brooke Marcel get out and walk around the side of the car. Her thick auburn hair was tied loosely back from her face, and she was wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt that hugged her slim figure. She looked as good as she always did, but today Ben thought he could see a frown on her face, a certain self-consciousness in her body language. She looked down at her feet a couple of times as she followed Shannon across the yard towards the office building. Seemed to be trailing behind, holding back. It wasn?t like her.
?Why is Brooke here?? Ben murmured. ?She?s not needed for this course. This is purely practical. Shannon doesn?t need lectures in hostage psychology.?
Jeff didn?t say anything.
?And what?s she doing with him?? Ben added.
Jeff gave a derisory snort. ?Can?t you tell??
?They?re??
?Yup. Looks like it. They?re an item.?
?Since when??
?Not sure. Since the last course, I think. I?d noticed they were spending a lot of time together. I was going to tell you. Must have slipped my mind. Or maybe I just didn?t want it to happen. Denial, or something.?
Ben watched her approach. Dr Brooke Marcel. Expert in hostage psychology, with an alphabet of letters after her name. Based in London, she?d spent years as a consultant to specialised police and military units, but was recently spending more and more time lecturing at Le Val. She was thirty-five, maybe thirty-six. He suddenly realised that maybe he didn?t know her as well as he?d thought.
?No reaction?? Jeff asked, watching him closely.
?Not my business,? Ben said.
?Come on. There?s always been something between you two. All those nights sitting together in the kitchen, drinking wine, listening to music. Going for walks. Don?t act like you don?t care.?
?There?s never been anything going on between me and Brooke. Only in your head.?
?I don?t know what she sees in that pumped-up twit, anyway. You?re more her type.?
Ben ignored that. ?He is what he is, but he?s paying a lot of money for this course.?
?I get it. You want me to be nice to the bastard.?
?Too much to ask??
Jeff kept his eyes on Shannon as he chewed it over. ?It just might be, yeah.?
?Remember what we agreed, Jeff,? Ben said. ?At Le Val we always respect our clients, no matter what. OK?? But he didn?t like the lecturing way it came out.
?Even the arseholes.?
?Especially the arseholes.? Ben walked over to the door, opened it and stepped out just as Shannon reached the building. Jeff followed him outside, muttering something that Ben didn?t catch.
Shannon?s grin broadened as he greeted them. He was a big guy. At six-three he was four inches taller than Ben, probably fifty pounds heavier, about five years younger. He raised his hand to his face and whipped off the shades.
?Ciao, Jeff, ciao, Benjamin,? he brayed at them. ?How?s it going, boys??
?It?s Benedict, not Benjamin. And you can call me Ben.? Not a great start, he thought.
Shannon grunted with a dismissive gesture. ?Whatever. Benedict, Benjamin, Ben, it?s all the same to me.?
Ben could feel Jeff bristling beside him. He threw him a quick warning glance. Respect the client, no matter what .
Brooke came up behind Shannon. ?Hello, Ben,? she said softly, and smiled.
?Hi, Brooke.? Ben patted her arm affectionately, like he always did. Shannon noticed it, and cleared his throat.
?The rest of the guys should be arriving soon,? he said.
?Fine. The accommodation?s ready for you all.? Ben pointed over at the trainees? block, across
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